


The River Always Returns Its Dead

by blue_striped_pyjamas



Category: Call the Midwife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-15 09:29:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_striped_pyjamas/pseuds/blue_striped_pyjamas
Summary: AU where Sister Mary Cynthia didn't get to Trixie before it was too late (Series 4 episode 8)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a.k.a. I can't write family friendly stories to save my life. This is very sad.

Trixie thought all of Nonnatus House was asleep. It was rare that there was no one around, but all of the Sisters and all of the Nurses seemed to be asleep, other than Patsy, who hadn't returned to Nonnatus that night, after a long and difficult birth it wasn't uncommon for her to spend the night with a friend from the nursing home, Delia. They were moving into a flat together, but Trixie was sure that they weren't moving for another day or two. As she sat down by the telephone, shakily putting a cigarette to her lips, she felt the jealousy for her friend rising. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion, but even if it turned her skin permanently green, Trixie wouldn't have cared anymore. Her friend had someone to turn to when the world was a dark and scary place, she didn't. Not anymore, not now that Cynthia had become Sister Mary Cynthia.

Trixie's hand was still shaking as she picked up the telephone and began dialing the number for the Samaritans. She had seen the number on a poster next to the bridge over the river. She supposed that it was there to put people off jumping, but somehow it seemed to the opposite, it just made it more obvious that jumping from there could kill someone. The phone call she made had a similar effect. When the person on the other end of the line picked up the phone, she was adamant that she only wanted to stop drinking, she didn't really want to die. After forty minutes talking to a patronising, older woman, Trixie wasn't so sure anymore.

There was still no sign of life in Nonnatus house, so Trixie crept silently back upstairs and into her empty room. There was a glass of something on the side, it was too dark to see what it was, nor did Trixie care, it was some species of alcohol and she knew it. There was always alcohol in their room, most of it hers. In the last few days, Patsy had made an effort to keep as much of it as possible out of sight, but it was to no avail, Trixie still knew where it was, and if she needed a drink, she would have one, no questions asked. She was wearing a nightie and housecoat but she didn't want to waste time getting changed, or risk making a noise and waking someone. She grabbed a coat from the end of her bed, and took her work shoes under her arm. Trixie's black issue lace ups were the most sensible shoes she owned, and the only pair truly suitable for traipsing across Poplar in the early hours of the morning. She didn't put her shoes on until she had got to the back door of Nonnatus - the heavy wooden door would certainly have woken someone. She let herself out and shut the door behind her. When, or indeed if, someone noticed she was not in her room, they would have no idea where she had gone.

Sister Mary Cynthia hadn't been able to sleep well since she had left Nonnatus House as a postulant. She missed being able to go down the corridor and spend the evening with Trixie - she missed her best friend. There was only a short distance between them, but it felt like they were worlds apart now, in fact, she supposed with a quiet sight, they were living in completely different worlds now. Sister Mary Cynthia heard the back door hinge creak as it closed. This puzzled her, anyone returning from a birth would have used the front door, and that door made the most distinctive noise, she was quite sure she would be reminded of this place any time she heard a heavy oak door scuffing over well worn tiles. Still, she hoped that the door had simply been a figment of her imagination, the small woman was not well suited to dealing with intruders, and there had been no noises since. She rolled over, falling into a deep sleep, not waking until she rose with the rest of her Sisters to say lauds in the morning.

It was a very cold night, like most nights in Poplar, especially when one was so close to the vast river. The river ran through the very heart of Poplar, bringing valuable produce, and the promise of employment, and if one was a metaphorical type, the promise of change. Trixie stood shivering at the railings. There was no one around, it was too late for that. The mascara she had applied earlier in the day was running in black tracks down her cheeks. At any other time, she would have complained that the biting wind was ruining her complexion. She didn't care about that now. Gripping the freezing railing, she hoisted herself up, and over. With one final flood of cold, she was gone.

It was Patsy who first noticed the absence of her roommate. She crept back into Nonnatus House, having spent the night at the Nurses Home with Delia, just before the nuns awoke. She had expected her bed to be the only one which hadn't been slept in, she knew Trixie had finished work earlier in the evening. When she found two undisturbed beds, Patsy thought nothing of it. Perhaps Trixie had done what she had, and spent the night with a partner. It wouldn't be particularly out of the ordinary for Trixie, having recently broken off her engagement with Tom, she was sure to have wanted some company. 

When Trixie hadn't materialised after breakfast, when she was supposed to be starting clinic, the level of anxiety amongst the occupants of Nonnatus House grew. Patsy suggested that they send a couple of people out to look for her, in case she had got herself into a "situation" overnight. Trixie's tendency to drink excessively was not unknown amongst those at Nonnatus House, even the Sisters had noticed recently.Sister Julienne couldn't spare the entire workforce, not on a clinic day, and with Trixie Acting Sister, she couldn't let Nurse Mount go, knowing that she would be the most efficient nurse to take on the role in her absence. Instead, she gave Nurse Gilbert and Sister Mary Cynthia permission to take their bikes and conduct a small search for Nurse Franklin. If she was found, they were to take her straight home to Nonnatus, and call the clinic. If she was not found by lunch, the police would be called. 

Sister Mary Cynthia felt a wave of dread wash over her as she hopped onto her bike, setting off at breakneck speed. She needed to find her best friend, she didn't know how she'd cope if something awful had happened. She practically flew around Poplar, trying to cover as much area as quickly as possible. It was as she went over the bridge that she stopped. The sight of it made her retch. Three men were hauling a body out of the river. It was too far away to see any details of the persons face, but her bright blonde bob was enough. It was Trixie.  
"Excuse me Sister, are you okay?" asked a local tradesman. Everyone in Poplar knew and respected everyone from Nonnatus House, and with their habits and veils, the Sisters were visible pillars of the community.  
"Sir..." Sister Mary Cynthia barely managed to get the words out. "Could you do me a favour Sir? Could you please call the community centre, and ask for Sister Julienne. Tell her that Nurse Franklin has been found, and that she must come here as quickly as possible".

It had been down to Sister Julienne to officially identify the body, and confirm that it was indeed their dearest Nurse Franklin. She then had to break the ghastly news to the rest of Nonnatus House. It had transpired that Trixie had no other living family, the Nonnatuns were her family. Sister Julienne gathered everyone (other than Sister Mary Cynthia, who had already retired to her room) in her office to tell them. As soon as they had all entered the room, they knew what had happened. No one could hold back their tears, no words needed to be spoken. They had all lost a dear friend, an irreplaceable character in their lives.

Patsy had been the first of the women to leave. She ran straight to the Nurses Home. She needed Delia to comfort her, and she needed to explain that they couldn't move into their flat together just yet. At least until the funeral, it was more important to Patsy that she spent a little longer with everyone at Nonnatus. Most of the Nonnatuns it seemed, had no other family. In the end, Delia joined everyone at Nonnatus. She didn't know Trixie how Patsy and the nurses did, but she knew that she was a good person, full of potential, and she felt the pain of losing her. Delia couldn't take Trixie's bed, so she resigned to sleeping on a matress at the foot of Patsy's bed - or at least pretending to, the two women spent most nights close to each other, desperate for each other's comfort. Patsy had lost so many members of her family, but not any for a long time now. This new loss had brought back the pain of losing other members of her family, her mother, her younger sister, and doubled it.

Chummy left next. She knew that her husband, Sergeant Noakes, would have had to have dealt with the incident. They both found comfort in each other. Phyllis was left to comfort Barbara, who was sobbing hard, shaking like a leaf. Trixie had been (with Patsy's assistance) responsible for Barbara's dramatic first night at Nonnatus, getting her the most drunk she would ever be. But, as she had said on the first night they had met, Trixie Franklin was a good person - one of the best. Phyllis let a single tear roll down her cheek. If only she had done more when she noticed Trixie's increased drinking, all of this could have been avoided. She was experienced enough to know to not blame herself, and instead turned her efforts into helping every other young woman now, as that was all she could do. She was the mother hen of the group and was determined that she would not lose another chick, not now, not ever.

Sister Mary Cynthia was the most distraught person in Nonnatus House. She had lost her best friend, and didn't have anyone to turn to for comfort. She couldn't go to the Nurses, she was a nun now and it was inappropriate. She didn't feel she fit in with them anymore anyway, even before her postulancy, she had only felt connected to the rest of the young women through Trixie. They were so different, but the two women had spent their first days as nurses together, forming a life-long bond, one side of which had been severed far too soon, and it stung. Sister Mary Cynthia tried to pray, just as the rest of her Sister were, but there was no quiet place in her brain where she could connect with God. This wasn't fair, she couldn't believe that this was part of the plan He had. She sobbed into her Bible, ruining the pages, but she didn't care.

The rest of the Sisters were holding each other. Sister Julienne was crying, her and Nurse Franklin had their disagreements, but she knew she was a valued nurse. She wasn't sure how they would manage the workload without Nurse Franklin, but that didn't matter now. She had lost a nurse, a dear young woman she cared for deeply. She often saw her younger self reflected in Trixie. Sister Julienne was holding the hands of Sister Monica Joan, who was crying out verses from texts so scrambled that her sentences hadn't made any sense since she began. It was Sister Evangelina that remained steadfast. She felt the sore loss of Nurse Franklin, but someone had to remain upright. She left the room, going in search of Nurse Crane. Together, they would man the phone. The mothers of Poplar still needed them, and they would manage together for the next day or so. Clinic would be postponed, the doctor would have to get a locum in to help cover his rounds as himself and his wife joined the Nonnatuns in mourning.

The entire population of Poplar mourned for Trixie Franklin. She was a well loved member of the community. Her funeral couldn't be a plain affair, everyone knew that she would have wanted everything just so, if anything slightly over the top. Her coffin was piled high with flowers, but it didn't seem excessive, not even to the Sisters of Nonnatus. The young woman deserved it. Even Jenny Lee returned to Poplar, upon hearing of the passing of her dearest friend. She wished that she had stayed in touch with Trixie, since she had become engaged to Phillip Worth, they had stopped writing, knowing that talk of engagement was a sore spot for Trixie. She laid a white nurses cap, complete with extra frills, on the very top of the pile of flowers. Trixie Franklin was a nurse, she knew how to take people's pain away. Without her, there was nothing but pain.


	2. Lost Youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a long time since I've written anything, I've got GCSE's in less than a month, I nearly broke my thumb, and my mind is otherwise occupied. Sorry this is short, my hands hurt too much write more, I was intending this to be only half of this chapter, but I will write the other half another time. It's sad, but so am I.

It had been exactly 2 months to the day since Trixie's funeral. Life for most residents of Poplar had continued, and as babies continued to be born, work had continued as normal for the Nonnatuns. Work continued, but life was shrouded by an unshakable black veil, weighing heavy on the shoulders of all who knew Nurse Trixie Franklin. Without her youthful spirit, Nonnatus House felt to have aged dramatically, and the stress of the last few months added to it; every single day felt like a decade. Even the building itself felt older, every brick, slat and board creaking and groaning like old bones. 

The workload at Nonnatus House remained high, and there had been no new midwife appointed, but all of the residents were thankful for that. Having a new midwife in Nonnatus would have felt like a replacement for Trixie, and whichever poor woman was appointed, she would be faced with carrying a burden that was not hers to share with the rest of the midwives. The high workload meant that everyone could constantly be working, there was no time for sitting idle and reflecting on the past. The constant busyness would have felt back-breaking at any other time, but for the time being, it was a welcome distraction. 

As night fell, the noise at Nonnatus did not die down. Whoever was not on duty could rarely be found in their rooms. Nurses and Nuns, they had all fallen into the habit of spending more time in communal areas than was entirely necessary, often falling asleep on the sofas and arm chairs, together. When someone did retreat to their room with the intention of sleep, it was not uncommon for the sound of their sobs to perforate the thin walls, and soon they would be joined by another sleepless resident. The women clung to each other, they were too afraid to lose someone else. Phyllis had taken the duty to lock the back door every night without fail, no one would leave without her knowing where they were going. 

Patsy and Delia had moved into a flat together. They both needed to be with each other, to comfort each other - without the prying eyes of the Nonnatuns. They could not risk losing each other now. In the week after Trixie's funeral, Delia had joined Patsy in clearing out her room-mates possessions, but they had not got very far. Removing Trixie's bright dresses and many cosmetics felt like they were removing her from Nonnatus House for good. Instead, her dresses remained in her wardrobe, and the many glass bottles of perfume, and metal tins of makeup were laid out on the windowsill. They scattered the light across the room like a stained glass window, flashing colour across everything in it's path. It felt like the perfect tribute to Trixie. Patsy couldn't bear to spend another night in the room after that, and after two nights that she spent asleep in an armchair, pining after Delia who had returned to the Nurse's Home, they had taken the lease of a small flat together. The door to Patsy's old room, Trixie's room, remained closed. 

The tradition of a midday meal at Nonnatus House had continued, but it had taken on a new form. Instead of the bustling table of vibrant discussion, it had become a place of quiet reflection, and in many cases, prayer. The table had been extended out, a seat was always left at one end, for Trixie, but there were more people dining there most days now. Tom Hereward had recently begun joining them most days, as had Fred and Violet, alongside Dr and Mrs Turner. They all quietly found comfort in each other's company, and the family bond between all of them had strengthened. Grace continued to be said, but it had become tradition to pass the duty around the table, each day someone would add a prayer for someone they believed needed it. After the meal had concluded, everyone departed and went on their separate ways to continue tackling the endless flow of tasks they were required for.

It was after a midday meal that the door to Trixie's room was reopened for the first time since Patsy had left. It was not Patsy who reopened it, nor Barbara or even Sister Mary Cynthia, in search of solitude or memory. It was Sister Monica Joan. The eldest resident of Nonnatus House had taken the weight of Trixie's passing incredible heavily. She had drawn strength from the young woman's youthfulness, a tonic of life which she drank heartily into her own soul. The Sister had aged in the last few months faster than sun set each evening. Her posture was more stooped, and she moved ever more slowly. Her ramblings became more disconnected, some days she would not speak a sentence of sense, other days she would speak merely a word. A word that was so often "Trixie". Over the course of a week, she had begun to slip further away, not even recognising the women she lived with, not even Sister Evangelina. 

Sister Monica Joan slipped into the room without anyone noticing. She cracked the door open just far enough for her to slip in, before gently pushing it closed behind her, but not enough for the catch to slip into place. She stood just inside the door for a moment, breathing deeply, pulling the scent of the room deep into her lungs. The room smelt slightly musty, like the rest of Nonnatus House did when the windows remained closed for any extended period of time. But on the edge of the scent, Sister Monica Joan could still smell hair lacquer and expensive perfume, a sharp yet homely and familiar tang. She was sure of it.

The delicately coloured pattern of light that fell across the bed closest to the door attracted the old Sister to it, like the smell of freshly baked goods used to attract her to the kitchen, before she lost her appetite for anything sweet. She laid down on the bed, shuffling around to release the pains in her body. As her eyes closed heavily and her hands clasped instinctively for the cross around her neck, her body felt lighter. The air clattered out of the Sister's lungs, as she mouthed the word "Trixie" for one final time.

**Author's Note:**

> Think yourselves lucky I didn't carry on and include Delia's accident too.


End file.
